Read Peter and the Starcatchers Online

Authors: Dave Barry,Ridley Pearson

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Family, #Social Science, #Fantasy, #Action & Adventure, #Magic, #Friendship, #Pirates, #Juvenile Nonfiction, #Orphans, #Nature & the Natural World, #Humorous Stories, #Orphans & Foster Homes, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Islands, #Folklore & Mythology, #Characters in Literature

Peter and the Starcatchers (11 page)

“What on Mol y ship?” said Aster.

“Not know. Mol y talk sound.” Ammm made a noise that sounded like an attempt at a human voice, but porpoises were il -suited for this task, and Aster couldn’t make it out.

“Again,” he said, leaning forward, desperate to understand.

“Who goes there?” A sailor’s voice, behind Aster.

Damn.
“Go,” said Aster to the porpoises. “Go.”

The porpoises turned and, in an instant, were gone.

What was on Molly’s ship?

“I said who goes there?” The sailor was right behind Aster, who turned from the rail to face him.

“Ah, Mr. Aster!” the sailor said, his tone changing when he realized he was speaking to the
Wasp’
s most important passenger. “I wondered who was making them noises. Not feeling wel , eh? Got the heaves, do you?”

“I need to speak to Captain Scott,” said Aster impatiently.

The sailor hid a smile. “Beg your pardon, but there’s nothing the cap’n can do about a sour stomach, sir.”

“It’s something far more urgent than that,” said Aster.

“But sir, with respect, it’s just past five in the morning, and the cap’n would have me keelhauled if…”

“Never mind,” said Aster, pushing past the protesting sailor. He strode to the ladderway, descended it, and pounded on the door to the captain’s cabin. In a moment the door was opened by Captain Scott, pul ing his pants on over a long nightshirt, looking ready to tear the head off whoever had disturbed his slumber. His anger instantly turned to surprise when he saw who had awakened him.

“Mr. Aster,” he said.

“Captain Scott. Please accept my apologies for this intrusion, but I must speak to you immediately.” The sailor clambered down the ladderway, puffing.

“I’m sorry, Cap’n,” he said. “I tried to tel Mr. Aster that…”

“It’s al right,” said Scott. “Back to your watch.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said the sailor, leaving.

“Please come in, Mr. Aster,” said Scott, stepping back so the tal man could enter his spotless, tidy cabin.

Aster shut the door behind him, and turned to face Scott. His expression was intense; to Scott, it almost looked as though the tal man’s green eyes were glowing.
A trick of the
lantern light,
Scott thought.

“Captain Scott,” Aster began. “You know of my diplomatic status. You understand that I am on a mission for the Queen herself.”

“I do, sir.”

“And you understand that, as such, I am privy to certain information that is not general y available?”

“I imagine you are, at that.”

“Captain Scott, I ask that you not question how I might know what I am about to tel you, but only to trust that it is true: a pirate ship now approaches the
Wasp,
intending to do her harm.”

“Approaches?”

“It is very close, I fear.”

“But, Mr. Aster, that is not possible,” said Scott. “Our lookouts have seen no other ship for days, save for the frigate flying the Union Jack. She may be an imposter, but even if she means us harm, she’l never catch the
Wasp.

“I hope you are right, sir. But if an enemy should overtake us…”

“He wil not, I assure you.”

“Just so, but if he does…”

“Then we shal fight.”

“And I trust that we shal prevail, Captain Scott. But whatever happens, understand this: the special cargo that this ship carries for the Queen must not fal into our enemy’s hands.
It must not.
If that were to happen, the consequences would be dire. More dire than you can imagine.”

“Then I shal make sure it is wel protected,” said Scott. “But I assure you that no such protection wil be necessary. As I say, no ship can catch the
Wasp.

“I pray that you are right, Captain.”

“Praying wil no doubt help, Mr. Aster, but so wil good seamanship. I’l go topside and see to the sails.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

The two men climbed the ladderway, Captain Scott wondering if his distinguished passenger had lost his mind.
How would he get information out here in the middle of the
ocean? And what ship could be capable of catching the
Wasp
?

His answer came as soon as they reached the deck, which was washed in the blood-red light of the dawn sun creeping over the horizon. The
Wasp’
s first mate, a burly man named Romel y, came running up, breathless.

“Cap’n, sir, I was just coming to get you. We just seen it, sir, just now.”

“Seen what?”

“A ship, sir, closing on us fast, and it’s flying….”

“But that’s impossible,” said Scott. “How can…

And then he saw it. Less than a mile astern was the frigate: but now she was moving faster than the
Wasp
, and faster than any man aboard had ever seen a ship move. Even at this distance they could see the two white waves of wake surging aside as the prow blasted through the water.

“What in the
world?
” said Scott, almost whispering. “What kind of…”

“It’s flying the skul and bones,” said Romel y, fear creeping into his voice. “It’s pirates, sir.” The word was picked up by other crewmen, and shouts of “Pirates!” rang out around the ship.

Captain Scott, usual y unflappable, stood staring at the apparition bearing down on his ship. “What kind of…” he said. “What…” Words failed him. He had never seen such a thing in al his years at sea.

For the attacking ship carried no sails. At least none of the ordinary kind. Instead of sheets of white canvas, the sky above the pirate ship was fil ed with an enormous black brassiere—an undergarment of fantastic size, as if made for a giant woman. The twin mountains of fabric, funnel-shaped, pointed and bulged ahead of the breeze.

“What is
that?
” Scott gasped.

“That,” said Leonard Aster, “is Black Stache.”

The crew heard that, too, and the murmur went quickly around the deck.
Black Stache.

“He’s here for the Queen’s cargo,” said Aster. “I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. That’s what he’s after.”

“Wel ,” said Scott grimly, “he won’t get it without a fight.”

CHAPTER 14
THE ALLIANCE

P
ETER FOUND ALF THE NEXT MORNING. The big man was down on his aching old knees, scrubbing the deck. The wind was picking up; to the west Peter saw gathering clouds, dark and threatening, though stil a good way off. They made the ship feel smal er to Peter.

Alf looked up as the boy approached.

“Hel o, little friend,” he said, grinning. “Seen any flying rats?”

“No,” said Peter. “But I’m going back to look.”

Alf’s grin disappeared. He looked around the deck to be sure nobody could overhear.

“To the aft hold?” he whispered. “To the trunk?”

“Yes. Tonight.”

“But there’s a guard there,” said Alf, “and he’l be wary. Slank was right furious at John for fal ing asleep last time. Had him whipped good and proper. He’s put a new man on guard, an ornery old scone cal ed Leatherface. He won’t be dozing.”

“I thought about that,” Peter said. “I have a plan to get past the guard.”

“Do you now, little friend?”

“I do,” said Peter. “But I need a helper.”

“I see. And you were thinking old Alf would be your helper?”

“I was.”

Alf stood, towering over Peter, and put a cal used hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Hear this, lad. Slank told the crew that if he found out who was in that hold, or found anybody else going in there, he’d feed ’em to the sharks.”

“It’s a good plan,” Peter said stubbornly. “It wil work.”

Alf studied Peter’s face for a moment.

“You real y want to get into that trunk, don’t you,” he said.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Bad enough to risk your life?”

“Sir,” said Peter, “I don’t have much of a life now, and from what I’m told I’l have even less where I’m going. If there’s something wonderful on this ship, I want to know what it is.

This is my only chance, sir.”

Alf looked out to sea for several seconds, then back to Peter, and Peter saw there were tears in the big man’s eyes. “Little friend,” Alf said, “those words are truer of me than they are of you.” He moved closer, and put his head next to the boy’s. “Tel me our plan.”

CHAPTER 15
THE ATTACK

C
APTAIN SCOTT STOOD ALONGSIDE the
Wasp’
s helmsman, caling out commands that were relayed to the crew via the first mate’s booming voice. Leonard Aster stood just behind Scott, his attention fixed on the ship pursuing them.

The
Sea Devil
was gaining. No matter what maneuver Scott tried, the enormous black brassiere grew steadily larger, blotting out much of the sky.

For al the peril they faced, Leonard and Scott retained their British calm, sounding like two gentlemen discussing the weather.

“He wil be upon us soon,” Scott said.

“It appears so,” Leonard answered.

“I would not have thought it possible,” said Scott, shaking his head. “Those sails, I…” He trailed off, then added, “I assure you, sir, my men wil be ready. We wil repel them.” Aster was quiet for a moment, studying the
Sea Devil,
now close enough that he could easily see the scowling faces of the pursuing pirates, waving swords and shouting vile taunts at their quarry. He turned to Scott.

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